


Damage Control

by Nyx Midnight (nyxmidnight)



Category: Shin Megami Tensei: Digital Devil Saga
Genre: Digital Devil Saga 2, Multi, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-13
Updated: 2012-05-13
Packaged: 2017-11-05 07:44:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/404004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyxmidnight/pseuds/Nyx%20Midnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Cielo is to blame for an orgy, Roland angsts, and Gale offers mental support.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Damage Control

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Springkink Summer ’07  
> Prompt: Digital Devil Saga – Gale/Roland/Cielo – Intoxication – “You're living like a disaster.”

“It’s your fault we’re having an orgy,” Gale said, looking pointedly at Cielo over Roland’s shoulder.

Cielo groaned something unintelligible around Roland’s cock, then pulled back and looked up at Gale, though he couldn’t see much of him from where he was. “Me?” He slurred a bit. “All I wanted was a good drink.” He wiped his flushed cheeks with one hand, then caressed Roland’s trembling, sweat slick stomach.

Roland, feeling tickled, chuckled softly then grabbed one of the drinks on the bedside table. “Cheers!” he toasted before finishing it in one gulp.

“That’s not a drink,” Gale pointed out to Cielo.

“Oh, it’s gonna be pretty soon,” Cielo replied mischievously, brushing the end of one of his braids over the head of Roland’s cock before swallowing it again.

A drink suddenly appeared in front of Gale’s face, held by a pretty tipsy Roland. “C’mon Gale, you sound like you could use one.” He smiled, more drunkenly than sensually, grinding his hips down to get more of Gale inside of him.

Gale let out a sigh, but took it and drank, the burn not as bad as the previous times. Then he put the glass away, wiped his eyes, and resumed trying to time his thrusts with Cielo’s head bobbing up and down while he held Roland sitting upright in his lap. Judging from the way Roland was moaning and breathing hard, though, he wouldn’t need to last very long. Not that he would either.

* * *

Roland sat at the edge of his bed, contemplating his tornado-stricken room. Clothes scattered everywhere on the floor, hanging from furniture, draped inartistically over empty bottles and rumpled papers, and an used condom half-hanging over the top of the trashcan like the cherry on a gag-inducing sundae. He wondered why he had a trashcan at all, right now, since he was so determined to turn his room into a mirror image of his life.

The door opened briefly as Gale slipped into the room, gracefully navigating the treacherous floor up to the bed. He knelt on it, then rolled Cielo over—the man was already drunkly, heavily asleep, his snores threading a fine line between cute and annoying—and carefully washed his crotch and thighs with the towel he had brought back from the bathroom.

“Hey,” he called out softly. He could feel the need to drink again rising in him, and he had promised himself he wouldn’t give in again, but he knew that in his state, he’d need a distraction or the temptation would be too strong.

Gale turned and sat beside him, but when he reached for Roland’s crotch with the moist towel, Roland took it from his hand, gently. “I… I’ll do that myself,” he mumbled as he cleaned himself a bit awkwardly under Gale’s steady gaze. He wasn’t that uncomfortable about being naked in Gale’s presence, or about what they had just done—in fact, thanks to the alcoholic haze around the events it seemed dirty and daring, in the fun way—but he wanted an excuse to look away, because holding Gale’s gaze was unnerving. “How do you do it? I mean, pick yourself up and… go on?”

Amazingly, Gale’s thought processes seemed actually affected by alcohol when is body seemed not. “… when, exactly?”

Roland sighed and tossed the towel on the pile of… something in the corner. “You know… after…” he waved his hand a bit, “Lupa…”

The silence of the room stretched on, only briefly interrupted by the sound of Cielo rolling against the two men’s back, and his snores resuming after he nuzzled Roland’s right cheek.

Roland tentatively peeked at Gale. The man barely look different from usual; only the crease of his eyebrows was more pronounced, his eyelids heavier.

“I must,” he simply said. “For my leader. My tribe. For Lupa, and for our comrades who died. We have a goal, and we shall reach it.” He looked at Roland, all seriousness and confidence, and Roland felt his heart squeeze.

Greg always spoke with the the same strength in his voice, this complete confidence that wherever the path took him, he would keep marching forward. He envied it in Greg, and now he envied it in Gale too. “I… I can’t,” he said, shaking his head. God he need a bottle to save him. “I just can’t.” He wasn’t nearly as great a man as Greg, or Gale, or Serph. He only half-heatedly believed he and the Lokapala could actually do anything but be a thorn in the Karma’s Society side, and that’d only be until they ate them all. He felt like the proverbial knight in front of the dragon, except he was naked and his sword was made of paper.

“Then follow us.” Gale lightly stroked Roland’s Atma with a finger, and a slight, pleasant buzz crawled up Roland’s wrist and arm. “Come with us, and we’ll help you on your way.” He looked at Roland intently. “If you cannot do it for yourself, do it for Fred. Do it for Greg. I’m certain you can.”

Roland snorted. “Oh? And how would you know that?”

“Because I know,” Gale squeezed Roland’s hand, “that Greg would have no one but a great man for his best friend.”


End file.
